Читать книгу Weddings Collection - Кэрол Мортимер, Кэрол Мортимер - Страница 33

“You know?”

June stared at her grandmother, dumbfounded. It had taken her several minutes just to work up to the subject of her father’s reappearance, afraid that the shock might be too much for the woman. Despite her rigorous protests to the contrary, Ursula’s heart was not as rock solid as it had once been.

But instead of shocking her grandmother, the woman had wound up stunning her.

Ursula Hatcher sat complacently behind her desk, presiding over the small government domain that had been hers all these many long years. Her eyes were kind as she looked at her youngest grandchild.

“He was already here.”

Obviously all her worrying about the state of her grandmother’s heart had been pointless. The woman appeared to be taking this far better than she was.

“And?” Impatience surrounded the single word.

With a great amount of care, Ursula began to reorganize the first-class stamps filed away in her drawer. She kept her eyes on her work. “He said his piece and left—after I put him to work for a while.”

The sigh that escaped her granddaughter’s lips was just short of being classified as a gale. “Grandma—”

She glanced up as she continued refiling the stamps by age. “I don’t throw stones, June.” She closed the drawer with finality. “And everybody deserves a second chance, especially if they’re sincere.”

Was her grandmother getting naive, or had she always been that way? “He’s not sincere.”

“Oh, I think he is.”

Ursula prided herself on not having wool pulled over her eyes. She’d seen through Wayne Yearling when he’d first come calling on her daughter. And saw him for what he was now. A broken man looking to right at least one wrong before he died. She judged by the way June was carrying on that she didn’t know about her father’s limited status on this earth.

“Doesn’t hurt anything to give it some time.” She sat back and looked at the two young people before her. She sensed that Kevin knew what she was talking about. “I couldn’t find it in my heart to throw him out. Maybe I could have once,” she allowed, “but not now. I don’t think Max will either.” Ursula paused to think for a moment. “I’m not a hundred percent sure about April.” Her words were addressed to Kevin. “She was the oldest and thought she was his favorite.”

June laughed shortly, dismissing her grandmother’s words. “He was his own favorite.”

Ursula’s voice was calm, considerate. “Don’t think that’s true now, June-bug.”

Kevin raised his eyebrows in amusement as he looked at June. “June-bug?” Somehow, it fit.

Ursula nodded. “Nickname we gave her when she was a little bit of a thing.” She shifted her chair to better face him. “June was always exploring, crawling into things and getting stuck.”

The grin was so wide it nearly split Kevin’s face. “June-bug, huh?”

Her grandmother was the only one allowed to call her that. “Don’t even think it,” June warned.

Ursula saw this as the perfect opportunity to steer the conversation away from the subject that was so painful to her granddaughter. “Kevin, I hear you’re looking to invest your money in something.”

Investing made it sound so distant, as if he was going to sit back and let his money do his earning for him. That held absolutely no appeal for him.

“I’m looking for a new business venture.” After working on the farmhouse for all this time, he was acutely aware of things in need of repair. He looked around the post office. It could use work. “Why, do you need renovations?”

When Ursula smiled, there was still a great deal of the young girl who had once captured the hearts of all the men in the area. “No, but I hear you’re pretty handy at that, too.” Her eyes sparkled as they shifted toward June and then back to him.

June rolled her eyes. When she was younger, there were times when she thought her grandmother had built-in radar. Things hadn’t changed all that much. “Meet my grandmother, our answer to the Internet and a gossip column, all rolled into one.”

“It’s not gossip if it’s true.” Ursula pretended to sniff. Her explanation, again, was for Kevin. “It’s a public service. Otherwise, people might stay in the dark for months at a time.”

“Not hardly.” This time, there was a touch of fondness in June’s tone.

Kevin perched on the edge of Ursula’s desk. “What’s this business you want me to invest in?” He had no intention of looking into a business up here. It was too far away from everything he knew. But there was no reason, he told himself, not to keep an open mind.

“We need a transport service.” Ursula told him only what had been on the minds of those who cared about Hades. “We’re growing and we can’t always wait for Sydney or Shayne to fly out to get supplies for us, or take one of us where we need to go if we haven’t got the time to waste with winding roads and wayward bears.

“It’s not so bad in the summer,” the postmistress allowed, “but winters are a challenge. If someone came here, say brought in a couple more planes and pilots with him, hell—” she snapped her fingers “—he’d see his money just come pouring back in no time. After that, it’s gravy.” She leaned in to him like a fellow conspirator. “So, what do you say?”

She was putting him on the spot, but he didn’t mind. Ursula was like the grandmother he’d never had and he’d become instantly fond of her on their first introduction. “Not shy about things, are you?”

She snorted at the observation. “This is Alaska, boy. If a woman’s shy, she winds up frozen on an ice floe somewhere. A woman has to say what’s on her mind up here.” Her eyes took measure of him. She could see the verdict was undecided, but she was hopeful. “How about it? Are you game to bring flight to the citizens of Hades?”

His first instinct was to say no, but the second one made the possibilities sound at least somewhat intriguing. He was aware that June was moving about the room restlessly. They had to get going. “I’ll give it some thought.”

Ursula drummed her fingers on her desk, trying to bank down impatience, knowing that, as a logical man, he wouldn’t just jump into this the way Yuri might if she suggested it to him.

“Well, don’t take too long,” she warned. “Wedding’s in about a week. I hear your ticket’s for the day after.”

He laughed out loud. “Is there anything you don’t know?”

Her eyes met his. Her tone delved down to the inner workings of his soul, where his secrets lay. “Lots of things, Kevin my boy, lots of things.”

Kevin couldn’t help the smile that rose to his lips. He hadn’t been referred to as a boy since before he’d stopped being one. Even when his parents had been alive, there had been a certain amount of responsibility that had fallen on his shoulders because he was the oldest. He’d assumed it naturally and his parents never attempted to dissuade him, to try to force him to enjoy his boyhood a little while longer.

He missed that now. Missed having carefree memories to look back on.

“You might try talking to the Kellogg boy,” Ursula suggested. “He knows how to fly and he used to work for a transport service before he went to work at the emporium. He might give you some information.”

Enough was enough. It was time to come to Kevin’s rescue. June hooked her arm through his and began to pull him toward the doorway.

“Leave him alone, Grandma. Kevin’s not interested in owning a transport service.”

He wasn’t absolutely sure that was true anymore. Gently he disentangled himself from June. It struck him how very similar she was to her grandmother. And to Lily, for that matter. His sister was going to fit right in here, bossing men around.

“Kevin’s got a tongue and can talk for himself, June-bug,” he told her pleasantly, anticipating the flare that instantly came into her eyes at the mention of the nickname.

June curbed her tongue. He needed to get a couple of things straight, but she wasn’t about to go into them in front of her grandmother.

“I was just trying to get her to back off a little,” she told him, casting an accusing eye toward her grandmother. “She can be intense when she wants something.”

It was hard not to laugh, listening to the pot call the kettle black. “That kind of thing seems to run in the family.”

Ursula took no offense at the comment. Her mind was on more important things. “So—” she leaned forward “—are you interested?”

He thought about it for a moment longer. “I might be. I’m always interested in a good proposition.”

Her grandmother looked directly at her when Kevin said that. June tried to remain unfazed, but she had a feeling that color was creeping up into her cheeks anyway. There was laughter in her grandmother’s eyes as she turned away.

June grabbed his hand. “C’mon, Kevin, I’ve got to see if I can find April and Max.” Her gaze was somewhat accusing as it shifted to her grandmother for a moment. “Someone has to warn them.”

Her grandmother’s voice followed them through the door. “I’m sure you’ll do a perfectly fine job of that, dear.”

June felt utterly drained as she sank down on a chair at her kitchen table.

Not even the music that had greeted her as they walked into the house had heartened her despite the fact that the tune was one of her favorite songs. She was tired and frustrated. It had taken the better part of two hours to track down her siblings.

April was out in the field, taking photographs for a magazine assignment she was currently putting together and Max had been at the Inuit village, trying to quell a dispute over fishing territory. It was a credit to her brother that the Inuit trusted him to come in and arbitrate their disputes, but she hadn’t dwelled on how proud she was of him, of both of them for what they’d become.

Her mind was on other things. She’d wanted them solidly behind her in this.

And they weren’t.

Max took the news the way he took most things—stoically. When she’d told him that their father was back, hat in hand, his expression had hardly flinched and barely changed, although he’d smiled a greeting when he’d seen them approaching. He hadn’t said how he felt about the reappearance, or the plea for forgiveness.

April had been visibly stunned at the news of their father’s sudden return. She hadn’t made any quick declarations about the situation either.

Neither had looked the way she felt. Angry, indignant. And it bothered the hell out of her.

Kevin entered the kitchen behind her. He’d let her have her lead all the way back to the farmhouse after they’d seen Max. June had chosen to sink into an almost deafening silence.

It was time for words. Silence, he’d learned years ago, never solved anything but only served to isolate you.

“You wanted them to react the way you did, didn’t you?”

Her legs straight out before her, she contemplated the tips of her boots. “Yes,” she finally said grudgingly. Was that so unreasonable, to want her brother and sister to feel the way she did? “He left all of us. He broke my mother’s heart.”

He noted that she’d said “my” not “our.” Was it the bond between them that she felt she was now vindicating? Was this a battle for two rather than just one? He decided to take her lead.

For a moment, he dropped down in the chair opposite her, straddling it. “What would your mother have done if she was alive right now?”

The expression on June’s face was disparaging. She knew exactly the way her mother would have reacted. “Welcomed him back with open arms, probably.”

“Why?” he prodded.

Anger flickered in her eyes as she raised them to his face. “Because she loved him. And because she had no self-pride.”

“What if he came back to stay?”

“He didn’t,” she cut in quickly. Her father never stayed put anywhere. At first, there’d been postcards. There’d been no return addresses on any of them, but the canceled stamps had testified to a wide journey. They’d stopped coming after a year. That eventually had led them to speculate that he had died.

“What if he did?” Kevin pressed. “What if he came back for good? Wouldn’t cutting him off like that be cruel to everyone considered? To your mother as well as to him?”

What did he want from her? He was just spinning theories anyway. “I suppose.”

“So, why wouldn’t that apply here?” he asked gently. June looked up at him, confusion in her eyes. “If your father’s come back to Hades to make amends, wouldn’t turning your back on him now be just as cruel to him? To you?”

Restless, she got up, nearly knocking her chair over. Kevin caught it, righting the chair as she shoved her hands irritably into her pockets. “Don’t you understand? I can’t just forgive him.”

“No,” he confessed, “I don’t understand. Why can’t you forgive him? What good does it do to punish him?” And herself, he added silently, sensing how much she was hurting. “It doesn’t change anything that’s happened. Doesn’t bring your mother back. And it only robs you of the present, of the future.”

He was talking to her back. Hands on her shoulders, Kevin turned her gently around. When she resisted, he applied just enough pressure to make her look at him. There was a world of hurt, of confusion in her eyes.

“He’s here now, June, make the most of it. None of us know how much time we have on this earth. We shouldn’t waste it. Enough’s been wasted as it is.”

She looked away, shaking her head, blinking back tears she refused to shed for her father. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” he told her softly. “You’re not a vengeful person.”

Her head jerked up. What gave him the right to make these judgments, to act as if he knew the workings of her mind when she didn’t know them herself? “How would you know? How would you know anything about me? Two weeks isn’t enough time.”

He curbed the urge to take her into his arms, to just hold her until her hurt ebbed away. He knew she’d never allow it, not now. “Sometimes two weeks can be a lifetime.”

“Only if you’re a mosquito.” She sighed, shutting her eyes. “I need time, Kevin. I feel my whole life has been based around his leaving us.”

“You’re working the farm.”

She opened her eyes to look at him. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Aren’t you back here, where you lived as a child, to try to change things, to turn things around? To see what it might have been like if you’d all stayed here, trying to make a go of working the land? Of living here instead of with your grandmother above the post office?”

Her denial died on her lips. She supposed he was making sense. Kind of. “Jimmy never told me you were a philosopher.”

“He should have.” He laughed, remembering. “God knows I spent enough time trying to talk sense into him when he was a teenager.”

June leaned back against the ancient counter that ran along the wall. “I’m not a teenager, Kevin,” she pointed out.

“Nobody outgrows their need for common sense.” He peered out through the kitchen window. Daylight was streaming in full force. But he could feel his stomach tightening. He’d left the watch Luc had lent him on the bureau in his room. He still couldn’t find his own.

“Damn it.” He turned to look at June. “I can never tell by looking. What time is it?”

She felt she’d packed a great deal of living into this one day. June glanced at her watch. “Almost five, why?”

“I was just thinking that dinnertime will be coming up soon.”

The only schedule she adhered to had to do with working. In her personal life, she was far more lax. She ate when she was hungry, slept when she was tired. She pressed her hand to her stomach, remembering that she’d had very little to eat today. “I really don’t feel like cooking.”

“That wasn’t going to be the offer,” he told her. “I can either make something for us, or we can go over to Lily’s.” Never one for pretenses, she was staying with Max at his home. She’d reasoned that since she was going to be living there after the wedding, she might as well get a jump on redecorating it now. Max had seen no reason to argue with her. “She’s always game to whip up a meal or twelve.”

Even though he’d seemed to take the news well enough, Max was going to need Lily tonight, June thought. And while there was a need within her to band together with her siblings, there was also a desire to be alone. To lick wounds that had been freshly ripped open.

She shook her head at the latter suggestion. “I don’t feel like going out again.”

It was just as well, he thought. She needed a little time to rebound from this. And, selfishly, he wanted to be with her. “Okay, then I’ll cook.”

She sighed. “I’m being waspish, short-tempered and surly. Why are you being so nice to me?”

He lifted her chin and looked down into her eyes. His own smiled softly. He thought of the way she’d been earlier, so pliant, so willing in his arms. He might have been her first, but the way he saw it, she had been his salvation.

“It’s a dirty job, but someone has to do it.” He brushed a kiss against her lips. “Now, why don’t you just relax and let me do the work?”

She nodded, then flushed, feeling guilty. She’d had so much planned for today. “I haven’t gotten anything accomplished today.”

She sounded like him, he thought. Before he’d learned better. “Not every day has to end with a mountain of accomplishments arrived at by exerting muscle power.” He opened a cupboard but didn’t find what he was looking for. “You’ve left your mind open to a possible truce. I’d say that was a great deal of work for one day.”

June turned to look at him. She’d never met a man like Kevin before. Something stirred within her, but she refused to let it rise. “Did you ever think about putting all these sayings of yours into a book?”

“Another undertaking to consider.” He laughed as he continued to hunt for a large frying pan. He’d found one pan, but it was small and hopelessly burned along the bottom.

Two pots fell at his feet as he opened the next cupboard. Apparently her method of putting away cookware was to shove it into a closet and close the door quickly, praying that the laws of gravity would hold it in place.

The laws took a holiday.

With a sigh, knowing she had to do something, June crossed to where he was standing and picked up the fallen pots. She thought of the way her grandmother had badgered him earlier.

“What about that other undertaking?” she asked, leaving the pots on the counter.

Finding what he was looking for, he took the liberty of rinsing the pan out in the sink first, just in case the pots shared space with small, furry creatures. “Which one?”

“The one my grandmother sprang on you. The transport service.” Did he want her to spell it out for him? To tell him that even though she’d rescued him from her grandmother’s grilling, part of her hoped he’d say yes to the proposition? “You weren’t serious when you said you’d think about it, were you? I mean, you were just humoring her, right?”

He dried off his hands on the towel. Unable to read the look in her eyes or to decide which answer she wanted from him, he asked, “Would you want me to be serious?”

Irritation rose. “Why do you always answer a question with another question?”

“It’s what we philosophers do.” He laughed when he saw her frowning. “You’re the one who called me that, not me. I asked the question to find out how you felt about it.” He paused before opening her refrigerator, one that he had taken the liberty of stocking on his third day of work. “How would you feel about it?”

The shrug was a little too deliberate, a little too studied. “We could use a transport service,” she acknowledged, then built on her words. “Hell, as far as I’m concerned, we’re way overdue for one. We could have used it a year ago. Maybe if we had one, I wouldn’t have sold my repair shop.” When he looked at her quizzically, she added, “A lot of business comes in from fixing planes.”

“You can fix planes?” There was no end to the surprises the woman was hiding in her bag of tricks, was there?

“I can fix anything that has to move.” She wasn’t bragging—it was a simple fact. “With the possible exception of some of the old men at the Salty.”

“You had trouble with the tractor,” he reminded her, a grin playing on his lips.

She ran her tongue along her lower lip, suddenly wanting to kiss him. To keep from giving in to the whim, she took a step away from him.

“It was just a matter of time,” she hedged. “You figured it out first.”

He nodded. “I really wasn’t talking about how you felt about having a transport service.”

“Then what were you talking about?”

“How you felt about me buying one.”

She wasn’t about to get pinned down. Not when he didn’t say anything first. “Someone has to. Might as well be you.”

“And that’s it?”

Her look was hesitant. Edgy. “Why, what else do you want?”

He smiled indulgently at her. “Now who’s answering questions with questions?”

She began to drift around the small area, aimless. She’d never really fit into a kitchen. “I like to think I have an open mind and learn as I go along.”

He tried another approach. This was not the outspokenness her grandmother had claimed was the hallmark of women out here. He was pulling teeth. “Would it bother you if I were around?”

“You’re family. Why shouldn’t you be around?” She pressed her lips together. “Are you thinking about being around?”

He shrugged, afraid to commit himself, especially when she didn’t seem to want his commitment. “Maybe.”

She nodded slowly. “It’s good for the town.”

About to slice carrots, he glanced in her direction. “How about for you?”

“Hey, what’s good for the town is always good for me.”

She took it no further than that.

She had no feelings about it one way or another. He didn’t have to be hit on the head to pick up a cue, Kevin thought. He turned his attention back to making supper for them.